Mark S. King shares "one terrifying night during my #Meth #Addiction that I must share to get well."

When my guard is down, it comes to me. It flashes across my mind, an uninvited assault, sometimes when I am beginning to drift off to sleep or, more cruelly, when my mind is enjoying a pleasant reverie. It is then that the dark memory rushes in like a raid.
He lived in a house with nice furnishings. That reassured me when I arrived for the hookup, given that so many of the other crystal meth addicts I encountered were barely holding on to the remnants of their lives. The others might have a s

Mark S. King: "Unrealistic fear of HIV blood isn’t limited to the history books. HIV criminalization... preys upon outdated fears and public disgust with people living with the virus."

It is coursing through our veins, sustaining life and fighting disease, and yet we fear it. The sight of a few drops can make an adult faint. A bucket of it in a movie is the very definition of horror.
Even as Donald Trump contributes his perverted, sexist new layer of blood revulsion (through a history of insults that include journalist Megyn Kelly’s bloody “whatever” and his most recent fabrication about a “bleeding” face lift that cable news anchor Mika Brzezinski never had)

In this interview by Mark S. King, Charles Stephens provides a searing indictment of racism among gay men and within HIV organizations. If you consider yourself a white ally to people of color, the level of your real commitment is about to be challenged.

Detail from Rotimi Fani-Kayode’s “Untitled,” courtesy of Autograph, London
In thirty years of HIV work alongside black advocates, I have rarely written on the topic of race. It makes me uncomfortable, or perhaps I feel unequipped, unqualified. But it’s that very hesitancy, according to black gay academic Charles Stephens, that only makes racism worse.
Charles, the founder of the Counter Narrative Project in Atlanta, proved to be the perfect person with whom to chat about race (and

Larry Kramer, Kelsey Louie of GMHC, Mark S. King, and Larry’s husband, David Webster. (Photo: Nathan Perkel)
The new POZ Magazine feature article, “Finding Larry Kramer,” tells the behind-the-scenes story of how the iconic activist found his way back to GMHC nearly thirty years after the organization kicked him out for being such a pain in the ass. It is an intimate look at an American hero and lion in winter.
I had the pleasure of writing the story, which meant meeting both Larry an

Mark S. King: on the racist LGBT response to #NoJusticeNoPride

No Justice No Pride protesters blocking the Capital Pride Parade. (Photo: Dylan Comstock)
Hell hath no fury like a privileged white gay man who has waited too long for the next pride parade contingent to sashay by.
When #NoJusticeNoPride blocked the DC Pride parade route on June 10, causing an hour delay to an already epic three-hour parade, you could hear the ice cubes impatiently rattling in Bloody Mary glasses for blocks. Revelers at three locations on the route were forced to co

Mark S. King: "Her message of self-love and unconditional acceptance—of our lives and other people—resonated like a beacon to the frightened gay men of Los Angeles."

“The One You Need To Let Go Of The Most,” by Jason Fritz & Matt Momchilov, based on images from the Louise Hay Ride.
The hall, an auditorium in a West Hollywood park, was filled to overflowing. Hundreds of people, nearly all of them gay men, were crushed together in folding chairs, seated on the floor, or crowded in overflow areas by the doors. I sat fidgeting in my seat, a first-timer to this event, and beside me was my brother, Richard. His lover, Emil, diagnosed with AIDS for a co

"... Donna Summer’s music laid the groundwork for everyone from Madonna to Lady GaGa..." Mark S. King on the joy and liberation so many gay men find in the music of Donna Summer.

(May 17, 2017 will mark five years since the death of music icon Donna Summer. This is why her legacy still matters.)
The music my friends liked when I was a teenager intimidated me. It was the head-banging rock of the early seventies, and it felt alien and unappetizing. Most of all, it just felt… straight, in a way I knew I could never be. Alone in my room, I listened to my beloved Broadway musicals, and resigned myself to the fact that popular music would never really speak to me.
And th

Mark S. King reflects on how his experience of the "plague years" of HIV have better prepared him to face his own mortality.

The angel visits, in the 1993 Broadway production of Angels in America.
We all know how this ends.
Despite the avalanche of articles on aging with HIV or advice about how to avoid long-term side effects or even news of progress toward a cure, nothing will change the inevitable. None of us will get out of this alive.
And, in one of the bitter ironies of being a long-term survivor, my experiences during the worst of the plague years have become a handy point of reference. I have learned imp

Last December I attended the most moving, transcendent World AIDS Day program I have witnessed in years. That’s not saying much, of course. These evenings are usually well-meaning but maudlin, featuring tearful eulogies while we hold up candles that drip on our fingers and we revisit personal losses that I put to rest a long time ago. Okay, clearly I have issues with grief.
But this event, organized by long-term AIDS survivor Sean McKenna in New York City, inspired and reawakened somethin

Mark S. King: "Year after year I’ve seen that video and find myself pulling farther away from the image on my television screen..."

When I was nineteen years old, I vacationed to Los Angeles and won a car on “The Price is Right.”
In the following years, if I really liked you and wanted to impress you — or give you a small, wacky glimpse of my life — then at some juncture I’d say “So hey, have you ever been to Los Angeles?” Or, “Did I ever tell you about the car?”
It was a long time ago. Thirty-seven years. I have a videotape of the entire episode and it gets trotted out and viewed from time to time. Now